


for the ghosts in the halls

by myeyesarenotblue



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sparrow Academy (Umbrella Academy), Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, hi so this was just an excuse to give ben a hug, hug without plot, i am hereby declaring a new tag, i call it hwp, it's a MASSIVE hug, no beta we die like ben, orgy hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27365128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myeyesarenotblue/pseuds/myeyesarenotblue
Summary: After saving Vanya and consequently the world, Ben wakes up in a grey field.He meets a little girl who might or might not be god.She sends him back.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 129





	for the ghosts in the halls

**Author's Note:**

> i'm pretty sure i was going somewhere when i started writing this but it ended up being fluffy nonsense, enjoy <3 <3 <3

Ben wakes up in a field, laying on his back in between grey flowers. 

He’s been here before. 

It’s- 

A bit of a fuzzy memory, but it’s there. He remembers open skies and endless paths, a tug, a pull, harsh whispers carried by the wind, not really there, but present.  _ “Go to the light.”  _

This isn’t the afterlife just yet. 

It isn’t earth, either. 

Ben knows. 

This is just- 

Somewhere in between. 

He sits up, digs his fingers in the grass just because he can, just because the rules are different here and he _ can. _

“What are you doing here?” 

Ben startles, twists around. 

Then he sees Her. 

A kid. 

Black hair, black eyes. 

A startlingly white dress. 

And Ben can’t really explain it, but he knows for a fact She is not be messed with. “What- what do you mean?” he sputters awkwardly, after a too long moment. 

“I don’t want you here,” She says, coldly, “You need to go back.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me.” 

She turns around and leaves without another word, starts walking down a narrow gravel path that Ben could  _ swear _ wasn’t there a second ago. 

Ben- 

Stands up, walks after Her. “I- I can’t leave,” he blurts, “I’m dead, I belong here.” 

“No one belongs here,” She says, quizzically, and doesn’t elaborate. 

Ben sighs. 

A huff of air, really. 

“Then the other place, in the light, or whatever.” 

Then She stops dead in Her tracks, turns to look at him. “No one really belongs there, either. It’s not the place for you,” and Her words are certain and true, “You need to go back.” 

Ben stares at Her, at Her eyes, and he knows, he  _ knows _ for a fact whatever the hell She wants to be  _ will _ be, wherever the hell She wants him to be he  _ will _ be. 

Still. 

Ben deflates, looks down and then back up, feels a pinprick of something bubbling up in his chest, something like frustration, and childish anger. “I don’t want to go back.” 

“I know.” 

“I’ve been dead for seventeen years. I’ve been a  _ ghost _ for seventeen years.” 

“I know.” 

And She knows. 

But does She know how he’s been living anybody’s worst nightmare for the past seventeen years? Stuck frozen, dead, unable to be heard, to speak, to touch, to feel, to interact with anyone and anything, to live any life  _ worth _ living. 

“I know,” She says. 

Ben takes a shaky breath in, a shaky breath out. “When I first died I- I was supposed to go into the light, wasn’t I? I was in this place and I was supposed to go into the light.” 

“That was before.” 

“What changed?” 

She hums a low note, looks to the side, to the horizon, contemplative. 

Ben gets the feeling She’s seeing something he’s not. 

“A lot changed,” She says, at last, “More than I could ever explain to you.” 

“Oh,” Ben says. 

She nods. 

They don’t speak, for a while. 

The flowers rustle softly, swaying in the wind. Ben notices for the first time it’s not just the black and white that makes the place feel somewhat eerie- there's no noise, at all. There are birds and bugs and thousand other things, moving along, shifting, existing, and they- 

They don’t make a single noise. 

Ben closes his eyes very, very slowly. “I don’t want to go back.” 

His voice cracks. 

When he opens his eyes, he finds Her there, face solemn, stoic, emotionless. She knows, but She also knows it doesn’t really matter, what he wants. 

And it’s not even that he doesn’t  _ want _ to go back, per se, it’s just that- 

He can’t stand it. 

He can’t stand having his family so close to him, so close he could reach out and  _ touch _ , except he’s dead so he  _ can’t _ , he can’t do anything but watch, existing on the sidelines, something muted and ugly, feeding off bitterness and resentment. 

He can’t stand the person he’s become since the moment he first stopped breathing. 

“I don’t want to go back,” and his voice cracks again, and again, and again, “I don’t want to go back,  _ please _ don’t make me go back,  _ please. _ ” 

She doesn’t reply. 

She watches him, watches him hurt. 

And Ben’s mind is reeling because he loves his brothers and his sisters and he wants nothing more than to live among them, watch them grow, watch them love, and he wants it so,  _ so _ much it’s intoxicating, simply overwhelming, the one thing he’s always wanted. 

But he- 

He’s also selfish, sometimes. 

Wants things he knows he won’t ever get. 

Wants things so fervently he forgets how to love his brothers and his sisters, how to push down the part of him that’s miserable, that hurts  _ so _ much it wants everyone else to hurt too. 

“I can’t go back to that,” Ben whispers, an admission. “I can’t.” 

She watches him. 

She lifts up a hand, places it over his chest. 

* 

Ben wakes up somewhere small and pitch black. 

He sucks in a breath and it- 

It  _ burns. _

It burns his lungs, stings something fierce. 

It hurls him into a panic, because for the past  _ seventeen _ years each and every single one of his breaths have been something artificial, nothing but an emulation of a thing that was but no longer is. Breathing shouldn’t  _ burn.  _

He tries to sit up, but- 

But he ends up slamming his forehead into something a couple inches off the ground, and it’s so dark he can’t  _ see _ , and- 

And he tries to raise his arms, to feel his away around the darkness, but he can’t get very far,  _ he can’t get very far _ , he’s enclosed left and right, and he can’t sit up either, and- 

And he  _ pushes _ at the walls that surround him but they won’t  _ budge _ , and- 

And- 

And it takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time to remember-  _ oh, right _ . 

_ Oh, right.  _

He’s got  _ superpowers _ . 

He summons the eldritch. 

The second they’re out they start pulsing, pushing,  _ shrieking _ , not liking one bit the situation at hand, and Ben barely has to do anything but lay back and wait for them to do what they have to do, for them to pierce through whatever the hell he’s trapped in and beyond. 

They push, and they push, and they push, and then there’s- 

_ Dirt.  _

Piles of dirt avalanching over him. 

Ben chokes on it, breathes it in and ends up sputtering, coughing up a storm, and then he’s desperately clawing his way  _ up, up, up _ , a mess of limbs and tentacles intertwined, focused on the sole goal of getting out, breaking free, breathing,  _ living-  _

He digs himself out from the ground, and he ends up on his hands and knees, coughing, spitting out dirt, and then his  _ eyes _ are burning because suddenly it’s not dark but light, a sunny day glaring down at him- 

He summons the eldritch back in. 

He coughs, and he coughs, and he coughs, until he’s got his heartbeat under control, until his eyes get used to the light, until breathing in isn’t stupidly painful anymore. 

He looks up. 

There are graves all around him. 

He looks up. 

There’s a grave right in front of him. 

_ Ben Hargreeves.  _

_ May the darkness within you find peace in the light.  _

“What the hell,” Ben mumbles, voice cracking. 

He’s- 

He’s not sure how to go on, from here. 

He stands up on wobbly knees, looks down and realizes he’s wearing- the uniform,  _ his Umbrella Academy uniform _ , old and worn, full of dirt, eaten at some spots, and he just- he decides not to think about it too hard. 

He starts walking. 

It’s a cemetery, of course, because why the hell wouldn’t it be? And it’s Dad’s cemetery, the one he was buried in, the one Klaus’ training would take place in. 

It’s not too far from the Academy. 

He starts walking. 

He heads towards the Academy because he’s really got no clue what else to do, if it isn’t that, and every step makes him shiver- the ground colliding with his feet for the very first time in the past seventeen years, the wind hitting his face, strangers brushing past him. 

Everything's too loud, and too bright, and Ben idly takes in the fact that Klaus is nowhere in sight to make him corporeal so this must mean he’s- alive. Alive for some reason. Breathing. Flesh and bone. And the thought is terrifying but it’s only one of many things overwhelming him at the moment, and he really has no idea what the hell is going on, and then- 

Then he passes by some store, by a random display window that’s been polished a little too thoroughly, and he sees his reflection, and- 

And it’s a boy, that greets him. 

It’s him. 

It’s Ben, seventeen years old, wearing that doe-eyed and vaguely stupefied look he’d wear so often as a kid, all furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, and- 

It’s him. 

That’s- 

He hadn’t really had reflection for the past seventeen years, but Klaus informed him time after time his powers must have done something to him because he very much did not look like a teenager. Ben noticed himself. He could tell he was taller. Broader. Which was fine, really, considering he is thirty-four years old and definitely  _ not _ seventeen, but- 

But now, seeing himself for the first time in god knows how long? 

It feels good. 

It feels damned good _ ,  _ because it’s- it’s him! That’s his face! That’s the face he remembers! The one he’s clung to for years and years and years and years! 

Ben genuinely has no idea how it would have felt like, to look in the mirror and see a thirty-something year old man, a stranger, instead of his own face staring back at him. It’s a strange thought, and it leaves him feeling oddly disgruntled because then he’s thinking he should probably  _ want _ to look like an adult instead of a child, potential dysmorphia be damned. 

He keeps walking. 

He stops thinking about it and keeps walking. 

He is alive. 

He woke up in his coffin, in the clothes he was buried in, in the body he left behind. 

There’s nothing else to do but keep walking. 

He only really slows down once he makes it to the Academy, because- 

It starts feeling real. 

Scary, even, for some reason. 

It’s not burnt to the ground, like it was the last time he saw it, so- there's that. 

He pushes past the doors slowly, feeling stupidly thankful that Pogo never really grew out of that habit of his of forgetting to lock the doors. 

Everything looks normal. 

Almost overwhelmingly so. 

Then he feels something edging on hysteria, detachedly, weakly, barely there, because he’s randomly  _ alive _ , and his childhood home is no longer a pile of rubble and ash, and he died for his siblings once, and then he died for siblings all over again, and he’s getting tired of dying, and that little girl in that place that isn’t heaven and isn’t hell- 

That little girl- 

Ben gets the feeling She doesn’t like him very much. 

(And didn’t Klaus say that’s how he came back that one time-? 

That one time he cracked his skull open on that goddamned rave’s dirty floor and bled out right before his very eyes-? 

Didn’t he say he met  _ God _ and She claimed he was too annoying to keep-?) 

Ben takes a deep breath, steps further into the foyer, “Guys?” he calls, and his voice comes out not like he’s used to, but the voice of a child. 

A teenager. 

Whatever. 

It’s a little disconcerting. 

“Guys? Anyone?” 

And then- 

High heels, clicking away, and through the living room’s doors- 

Standing there, frozen, Mom. 

And she’s  _ looking _ at him, and she hasn’t  _ looked _ at him in more time than he can count, and he’s lost so many things he’s barely ever given himself time to mourn the fact that among it all he also happened to lose his mother the day that he died, and she’s- 

She’s standing there,  _ looking _ at him. 

“Oh,” she says, in that way of hers that means she’s defying all logic and feeling things she should not be capable of feeling, “Ben, darling.” 

Ben takes a step forward. “M-Mom. Hi.” 

And then she takes a step forward, and he takes a step forward, and then they’re hugging, and Ben almost cries out because- 

When’s the last time he got a hug save from that thing with Diego and then that thing with Vanya-? And one of Mom’s hugs at that-? Since way before he died, he’s sure. Since he was a little kid and it wasn’t yet drilled into him that being soft wasn't alright, that seeking comfort wasn’t alright, that wanting to feel  _ loved,  _ and _ cared for,  _ and _ seen  _ wasn’t alright. 

Since he was a little kid, and he’d wake up screaming and shaking, echoes of a nightmare still burning through his eyelids, and he’d cry, and he’d call for her, and then she’d be there, and she’d hug him, and she’d kiss his forehead, and she’d tell him he was safe. She loved him and he was safe, and nothing bad would ever happen to him as long as she was around, she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him, ever, ever, ever. 

And then he grew up. 

And then they put his body underground. 

And now- 

“Mom,” Ben says, a whimper, barely a breath, and he buries his head on her chest, lets himself be squeezed tight in her arms, rocked side to side. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom says, and she doesn’t have to say anything else. 

And then- 

A horrible shrieking noise, a blinding blue light. 

Ben takes a step back and turns around as fast as he can, and there, right in the middle of the goddamned foyer- 

His siblings, all wobbly knees and startled expressions, one of those time-traveling briefcases clutched against Five’s chest. 

And they’re- 

They look the exact same way they did last time he saw them, and so he understands they did something right, they’re all alive, and safe, and sound, and the world’s still standing, and so they must have done something right. 

(He looks at Vanya, standing tall, and he thinks  _ he _ must have done something right, and he’d do it again, and again, and again.) 

His siblings are there, straight from the sixties and into- whatever the hell year they’re in. Twenty-nineteen, judging by the way everything and everyone outside looked. 

“Hey,” Ben says, because he can’t not say it. 

They turn towards him. 

They notice him. 

And- 

_ Jesus _ , Klaus. 

Klaus, Klaus, Klaus, it’s always Klaus, isn’t? 

Klaus looks at him and Ben can just see the gears turning in his head, trying to decipher what the hell is going on and why he’s here, if he was just gone, why he’s here, like this, if he hasn’t been a child in a good moment, has never worn his uniform in death, never wore the dirt and the decay and the haunted look in his eyes in life. 

He must be thinking he’s still a ghost, must be thinking they somehow messed up the timeline and he somehow managed to end up dying in knee-high socks instead of his jacket, and his hoodie, and his boots. He must be thinking- 

He must be thinking it all. 

“I’m-” Ben starts, and he doesn’t really know what to say. “I’m alive. Klaus, I’m alive.” 

And Klaus frowns, and looks at him, really looks at him, and Ben can just see how he’s hopeful but doesn’t quite believe just yet- 

Then Vanya breathes out something heavy, shaky, relieved, “Ben,” she says, a sigh, and that’s all Klaus needs. 

Ben doesn’t get all that much time to figure out what’s happening. 

He just sees Klaus, the way he turns to look Vanya and then back at him, at the rest of his siblings and then back at him, at Mom, and then back him, at the way they’re all looking at him, at  _ him _ , and Klaus is not manifesting him so it can only mean one thing, really. 

Klaus steps forward. 

Ben doesn’t get all that much time to figure out what’s happening, he just sees a blur a movement hurling towards him, half a second, and it’s- 

It’s Klaus. 

It’s always Klaus. 

Klaus all but throws himself into his arms, hugs him tight, squeezes so hard it’s almost painful, and Ben- Ben hugs back like it’s the only thing he knows how to do, and it’s  _ different _ than hugging Mom because he lost Mom but Klaus has been there with him since before he’s got use of conscience and it’s  _ different _ because Klaus was always clingy as a kid, and clingy as a teen, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t be clingy as an adult because Ben was dead and dead things can’t be touched, and it’s  _ different _ because –turns out dead things can be touched! They can! They absolutely can! 

They can! 

But it’s Ben, and it’s Klaus, and by the time Klaus figured out how to make his fists glow blue something was shattered between them both and there was no touching whatsoever save from pushes and punches. 

There was no hugging. 

There was no pouring out all of the things that they never say. 

There was no I love you, I couldn’t have gotten this far without you, you’re my family, you’re my brother, you’re my best friend, I love you, thank you, thank you, thank you. 

Klaus hugs him, and Ben hugs back. 

Ben feels something tighten in his throat, thick, and uncomfortable, and he thinks he might cry. Which is weird. He’s never really been a crier. 

He’s feeling too much, and too little all the same, he’s feeling as if he doesn’t know how to feel. 

This is the one thing he’s wanted for most of existence, isn’t it? 

This is it. 

Diego steps away from the rest of their siblings, and Ben thinks he would legitimately not notice him approaching if it weren’t for the way Klaus’ arms tighten around him, the way he tilts his head to the side minutely. 

Klaus throws Diego an annoyed hiss, more weary than anything, “Can’t you see Benji is a little busy over here?” he says, and his voice comes out wet, “Wait your turn.” 

“Fuck off,” Diego mumbles, with no heat. 

His eyes never leave Ben’s, and then he’s wrapping his arms around him, and Klaus just sort of- doesn't really move out of the way, so they end up in a weird, three way hug, and it’s the best goddamned feeling Ben’s ever felt, and it’s better like this, with Klaus beside him instead of fluttering around in a shared skull, and it’s better like this, with Diego slightly taller than him, with him pressing his temple against the top of Ben’s head. 

“Ben,” someone says, and it’s Allison, and then she’s joining the hug. 

And then it’s Vanya. 

And then it’s Luther, getting as close as he dares to, clutching his shoulder tightly. 

It’s just Five, then, that remains, stoic but not quite, standing a couple feet away from them with an expression on his face that just can’t be described. 

Ben does wonder, sometimes, what it’s like to be him. 

To fight tooth and nail for their family but still come one sibling short, time, after time, after time. To fight, knowing he’s never going to fully succeed. 

Ben doesn’t blame him for not trying to save him. He gets his reasoning. It’s one person against an entire world. One brother against an entire family. 

Can’t be an easy decision to make, though. 

Ben- doesn’t say anything at all, because he doesn’t trust himself not to open his mouth and say something incredibly stupid at the moment, but he does manage to unentangle one of his arms from in between the mess of siblings he’s trapped in, and he reaches forward, and he really,  _ really _ , does feel like crying. 

“Five,” he says, easy, simple. 

Five doesn’t move. 

He’s glued to the spot, staring. 

His eyes look so damned heavy. 

Allison’s the one that steps away for a second, rolling her eyes, “Oh, come here,” she says, and grabs Five by the back of the neck and pulls him in before he has time to react. 

Klaus and Diego make room for him, and Ben holds him tight to his chest, and he’s so small, and he freezes, as if he’s got no clue how to go about this thing. 

Ben looks up and there’s Mom, and she’s looking at them all with something soft, and tender, special, reserved just for them. 

She smiles. 

Ben smiles back. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @myeyesarenotblue


End file.
